Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Fat White Women From Wisconsin Are Ruining The Movies

She's a high powered [insert profession that middle America conceives as "high powered"] who's been unlucky in love. She's dating a man in her same profession, likely at the same firm/hospital/foundation at which she works. The match is one of convenience. She's not really fulfilled, but fuck it, he's good looking as all get out.

The plot contrivance includes a situation where this polished professional woman needs the assistance of this grubby, unkempt ne'er do well. He's nothing like the man in her life. He infuriates her. She wants nothing to do with him. The sooner she's done dealing with him the better.

But they keep running into one another. Seems he's the only guy who can do what she needs done. He's like a genius in his field. The one time he runs into her guy, her guy takes an immediate dislike to him and berates his lack of education and panache in an aside to her. But that doesn't abate her growing fascination with this grubby interloper.

She's at a society function at an art gallery. Who shows up? Mr. Grubby himself. It turns out he's the hot artist that they're featuring. It also turns out that he's just doing whatever gig he's doing to support his painting. He has a degree from HARVARD (it's always an Ivy League degree) in law/finance/cunnilingus but he doesn't want to do that professionally, it would take away from his art.

Mr. Grubby has a soul and smarts. It's just what she's been missing and she starts to fall for him.

Mr. Polished, her dude finds out and starts looking for dirt on Mr. Grubby.

He finds the dirt and yells it out the secret when he finds them together in a public place, probably waving around the papers with proof of the dirt on them. Mr. Grubby punches Mr. Polished. He falls into a body of water and Mr. Grubby stalks off, leaving her behind confused and upset.

She has a crisis of conscience. Upset by the dirt that was revealed, she doesn't want to believe it's true. She finds Mr. Grubby at his artist's studio getting ready for his next showing. He confirms the dirt is true and tells her to move on and be happy with Mr. Polished. She reluctantly does so.
When she's ready to take that big step and settle for life with a handsome, rich, basically decent dude, Mr. Grubby shows up, does some sort of asshole move and steals her away from Mr. Polished. They kiss. The end.

I just wrote down the synopsis of every romantic comedy ever written. I don't ever want to see one again. Women, don't let them shove this shit down your throats again. Rebel. Stop going. Make them treat you better. The writers of these movies are the proverbial "Mr. Polished". Check out "Mr. Grubby" and see if he doesn't suit you better. This bullshit has got to cease.

Be Cool,
KZ

13 comments:

1969 said...

I hate those movies. Seriously.

I'd much rather watch Blade Runner.

onefromphilly said...

Yea...why can't Mr. Polished have a Grubby side and be the perfect dude all packaged into one???
Yea... that's the type movie I want dammit!

Nexgrl said...

Have the trailers gotten to you, or were you suckered into going to see the latest "chick flick?"

I usually wait for them to hit the pay channels.

Knockout Zed said...

@Sixy
Now that's a woman close to my heart!

@OneFrom
That dude is me.

@Nex
I was infuriated by that new Eva Longoria Parker flick. Plus that bullshit Nanny Diaries flick. In addition, the entire careers of Julia Roberts and Kate Hudson.

KZ

Blah Blah Blah said...

I like blood and guts... so next time write it with Polished cutting Grubby. Then Grubby coming back with something sorta grimey like effing Polished's mother then accident;y killing her in vehicular manslaughter... and then STILL let the chick fall head over heels for Grubby.

Or throw in some sci-fi alien love triangle with some green slime and STILL let the chick fall head over heels for Grubby.

Or throw in a hunting trip where it turns into a butchering in the woods and we find out that it's Grubby who mutilates and kills off Polished and STILL gets the chick to fall in love with Grubby.

Bananas said...

Okay, I kinda feel like I might be qualified to speak on this. Zed's right, the formula is well entrenched in Hollywood. Know why? Cause folks pay to see it.

Ya'll need to stop flocking to see this rehashed plot and demand a little more.

Then maybe I can get paid!

chele said...

You paid to see Nanny Diaries? Seriously?

Knockout Zed said...

@Terry
The reason this fuckin' writer's strike has gone on so long is because of the AMPTP's thinking that "anybody can write this shit". That means the talented get lumped in with the idiot. Hollywood is just sad.

@Chele
Nope, I didn't pay to see shit. I guess I did, in a way. I got HBO and CineMax. This shit is on all the time. I've fucking seen shit you wouldn't believe.

KZ

proacTiff said...

Fuck. Let Polished get hit in an auto accident, lose his memory and come back as Grubby who turns into Micheal Myers. AKA Halloween movie star. Yeah. Then it's blood, gore, childhood trauma, Hollywood film and no chicks getting screwed. At least not by Mike. Double pun-intended...

*End the writer's strike*

A.u.n.t. Jackie said...

my idea of a love story is black orpheus...people died dramatic deaths in black and white film for love...

you don't see much of that any more.

terry is right romantic comedies are formulaic that's why they work, people are comforted by a plot line that is familiar...

those people probably didn't like the invisible lightness of being either...

Angel said...

dag! who pissed in your face and called it sweet milk?

Blu Jewel said...

First time here, but I like it.

I want to see a story where the guy doesn't get the girl or the girl turns out to be a real bitch. Give me something I can actually relate to instead of this cotton candy that melts in my mouth but doesn't leave me satisfied.

ChezNiki said...

Im still back on the "Harvard degree in cunniligus" part... Sayin' I work in Cambridge now. I could stand outside the gate on MassAve and wait for the graduation ceremony to end!!! LOL!

Sounds like the story of my life... minus the Polished guy...